


Burning Bridges

by LoneWulffe



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (my attempt at writing out my feelings and speculations), Ambiguity, Angst and Feels, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWulffe/pseuds/LoneWulffe
Summary: "Without your love, I'll beSo long and lost, are you missing me?"





	Burning Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> No betas again so please point out any mistakes if you find them.
> 
> The title has two meanings, just for the sake of clarification. It is simultaneously referring to the act of burning bridges (Mon-El trying to keep his distance from Kara and push her away) and bridges that are already burning (the already damaged state of their relationship due to their forced separation and time apart). The quote in the summary is from the lyrics of Long & Lost, the Florence + The Machine song I quote in the fic itself.
> 
> This fic is of course based entirely on the events of 3x07 and if you suspect I was trying to recreate that iconic crying scene of Diane Keaton's character in Something's Gotta Give throughout the entire writing process, you would be mostly right.

> _But it's too late to come on home_
> 
> _Are all those bridges now old stone?_
> 
> _But it's too late to come on home_
> 
> _Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song_
> 
> – _Florence + The Machine, Long & Lost_

 

* * *

 

It has been so long. So, so long. Far too long.

The sight of her takes his breath away. That has not changed.

Her name slips out of his mouth against his will and he lowers his gun before he's even aware that he's doing it, his actions driven half by shock and half by instinct.

Deep inside his mind where he'd locked it away out of a sense of self-preservation, the old him – the one who came to know her and love her in all her radiant glory and sweet gentleness – stirs awake.

_-Never-_ , it murmurs quietly. _-Never hurt her.-_

Too stunned to remember that he was supposed to stop listening to it a lifetime ago, he obeys and lets the gun clatter to the ground.

All he can do is stand there as she approaches him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “Is this a dream?” he can almost hear her asking. Or maybe he's asking it himself. He doesn't know. (Does it matter? He doesn't know that either.)

The first thing she does when she comes within reach is cradle his face and ah, how he has missed her touch. He had almost forgotten what it felt like. (Almost.) She is undoubtedly reassuring herself that he is real just as he is – that the person before them is alive and here – because their last goodbye was supposed to have been just that: their last. And now here they are.

Then she's clinging to him, crushing him to her like she never wants to let go. (Maybe she doesn't. The old him doesn't want her to anyway.) It is as if she believes that she can defy the laws of physics, that if she holds him tight enough and wills it with all her being their bodies, minds and souls can simply merge together so they will never be apart ever again.

It is an understandable sentiment and even if he knows he shouldn't, he cannot help but wrap his arms around her in response.

_-Kara.-_ The old him repeats her name like a mantra, whispers it like a lost child would after having been reunited with his mother, like a devoted priest would the name of his goddess in his daily prayer. _-Kara, I'm home.-_

_This is dangerous_ , he tells himself – his old self.

_-I don't care.-_

(Deep down, maybe he doesn't either.)

 

* * *

 

_-Well-_ , the old him quips as he lies on one of the beds in the med-bay, _-this is familiar.-_ Denied control, it has of course revived its sense of humour as a way of getting back at him for doing his best to lock it away once more. It strikes him that it can best be described as some kind of insane, this war he has going with the man he used to be, but considering everything he has seen and done 'insane' might be the easiest way to explain his state.

Regardless, neither of them have any complaints about Kara's insistence on keeping the amount of time she is not maintaining some level of physical contact with him to a minimum. Maybe he's getting soft. Maybe it's because he's weak and tired; hypersleep is never actually restful and his rude awakening from said artificial slumber likely didn't help. Maybe this is just due to the usual effect she has on him.

She is still, after all this time, his Kryptonite.

_Let me handle this_ , he tells the old him sternly. _I will not tolerate you messing this up._

_-You're in charge after all-_ , it points out, its voice rich with contempt.

There is too much that could go wrong. He cannot risk it. What he wants right here and now doesn't matter.

So he lies whenever he is asked a prying question, and the old him counts his falsehoods in the number of mountains Kara deserves to drop on him with almost masochistic glee. It's beyond annoying and he's almost glad when she is the one to ask them to leave him in peace.

Almost, because that means they are alone and he is more likely to let something slip. Sensing a weak spot in his defences, the old him struggles to the surface.

“I missed you.” She whispers it like it's a secret.

“Me too.” The words leave his mouth but he is unsure which him is speaking. (It's true either way though so what does it matter?)

“It's been, um... tough,” she continues through a pained smile. “Seven months of not knowing.”

_...Seven months._ “Seven months,” he repeats somewhat hollowly. _No. No, this can't be._

The old him takes advantage of his turmoil and seizes control then, telling her of his efforts to inform her of his fate, of his desire to break all laws of time and space just to have some kind of contact with her just one more time. Against his will, it tries to tell her more but she cuts him off with words and a calming touch. The feel of her hand on his cheek, of her thumb stroking his skin... it is both too much and not enough.

“It's okay,” she whispers. (It's not but she doesn't know that.) “You can tell me all about what happened later.” (There might not be a later but she doesn't know that either.)

“Kara-” he starts but she shushes him and presses her lips to his forehead. This is dangerous territory, he knows, but a selfish part of him – is it the old him or the current him having these thoughts? – still wants this moment to last forever and he curls a hand around her arm as if he can keep her there. “Kara,” he tries again to no avail; she tells him to “just sleep” with yet another kiss on his forehead and he feels his body start to comply against his will. There are things to do but he is helpless to resist the wave of drowsiness sweeping over him so he simply nods and lets his eyes close with the last thing he sees being her face.

_-Oh Kara-_ , the old him sighs fondly as the darkness claims both of them, _-you always were too stubborn for your own good.-_

 

* * *

 

_-You're being an idiot.-_

_Shut up_ , he snaps; he cannot afford to divide his attention between arguing with the old him and sneaking around the DEO. Not if he wants to be successful in achieving his objective anyway.

_-You could just ask nicely. I know. Novel concept, right?-_

He barely suppresses the derisive snort that suggestion draws out of him. _You know very well why I can't do that._

_-I hope Kara kicks your ass for this. I really do.-_

_You're supposed to be on my side_ , he grumbles as he waits for the DEO agent he has in a sleeper hold to lose consciousness. _You're ME for Rao's sake._

_-I don't have to do anything of the sort. Not when nothing I say actually means anything to you.-_

_I am so glad I don't actually need you_ , he fires back as he finds what he is looking for and picks it up-

-only to turn around just in time to see Kara pulling her fist back.

_-That's my girl!-_

It's the last thing he's aware of before her punch connects with his face.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up to another painfully – emphasis on painful, if the ringing in his head is any indication – familiar setting.

_-Quick-_ , the old him urges the moment he notices her looking down at him, _-say, “We really should stop meeting like this.” Oh wait, I forgot. I'm the one with the sense of humour, not you. And if you'd listened to me, you wouldn't be here in the first place.-_

The sarcasm is neither appropriate nor appreciated so he ignores it as he sits up and prepares himself for the inevitable interrogation. His best strategy is to keep quiet; that way he won't run the risk of revealing anything he shouldn't. The only time he allows himself to speak up is to defend himself when she accuses him of almost killing the two agents.

Then the conversation takes an unforeseen turn. (He should have expected it but it still takes him by surprise.)

“Is it not you?” she asks, her voice on the verge of breaking.

This is going to hurt. He knows it. But he can't do anything about it. “It's me,” he answers.

“Then- Then make me believe it. _Please._ ” She's begging. She's begging and her voice has broken and he can't bring himself to say anything. All he can do is hang his head as she pours the shattered pieces of her heart at his feet and he can't bear to listen much less look at her.

_-Listen to her-_ , the old him orders coldly. _-Look at her. You owe her that much.-_

“You have nothing to say?” she demands brokenly after a too-long pause. “ _Nothing?_ ”

_-Tell her. Just tell her.-_

He can't. “I'm sorry,” is all he allows himself to say.

Maybe it's just his imagination but he could almost swear the temperature in the room drops just a little at her next words. “Shame on me for having a human heart.”

He looks up to the sight of her retreating back and it is only then that he allows the tears to fall.

_-You're going to regret this-_ , the old him says but with surprisingly little fire. Instead, it merely sounds... resigned.

Maybe he already does. Even if he knows it's pointless.

 

* * *

 

It is fortunate that Winn is receptive to his pleas for help although he has no doubt that it is the mention of Kara that convinces his old friend to break the rules for him.

Some other things, it seems, remain unchanged as well.

 

* * *

 

She finds them. Of course she does.

It is always something to behold, how intense she can be when she is full of nothing but righteous fury, and the old him only gets even more entranced when her anger intensifies over the silence she receives as an answer from him and Winn.

He is forced into action when she moves to retrieve the very thing he'd gotten into trouble retrieving from the DEO's artefact room in the first place, racing her to the port so that he can block her with his body if he has to-

It turns out to be the wrong move, but not for the reason he anticipated.

There is naked disbelief splashed across her face as she realises exactly what hangs around his neck and he is frozen where he stands as her fingers lift the chain so that they can find the familiar blue stone that hangs from it.

“My necklace,” she breathes incredulously as she searches his eyes for answers he cannot give. It spurs him back into motion, into stepping away and all but snatching it out of her grasp in order to tuck it back under his shirt.

_=MINE=_ , an almost feral part of his mind that exists somewhere between who he was and who he is snarls again and again, heedless of the fact that the necklace was hers to begin with. = _MINE.=_

He cannot let her have it back.

_Stupid_ , he scolds himself as he moves away from her and back towards the console in the wild hope that putting some distance between them will help him regain his composure. It's a little unfair of him but he cannot stop himself from funnelling the anger he feels at his carelessness into the retorts he throws her way. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He cannot afford to slip up and yet he keeps doing just that around her.

“How could you have changed so much?!” she demands to know. “It's only been seven months!”

It's the final straw. “No, it's been seven years!” he yells back and the shock on her face at his outburst makes him regret raising his voice if nothing else.

_-Explain properly then, you ass. And watch the tone.-_

So he does, as best as he can, carefully weighing every word and detail that leaves his mouth. There is too much at stake and as far as the whole 'walking on eggshells' thing he's been attempting is concerned, he's pretty sure he's stomped on quite a few of them by now.

“So what, you just... you just forgot about me?” she asks haltingly. It's just like her to be so tenacious and he remembers how well that quality served – serves – her in her day job.

_-Answer her. Tell her.-_

He is compelled to turn around and face her, the words on the tip of his tongue as he takes in the look on her face. If he didn't know any better, he would swear she already knows what he is going to say.

“Why are you still wearing the necklace?” she presses.

_-TELL HER.-_

The alarms choose to go off at that very moment, and lost in the ensuing chaos is the soft forlorn sigh of the old him as it mourns another lost opportunity.

 

* * *

 

“I'm sorry,” he says when she finds him at the balcony, “for all of this.”

(He doesn't know it, but she is standing on the very same spot she stood hours after she'd watched him fly out of her life seven months ago, her eyes searching the sky as she wondered where he was at that very moment.)

His emotions are still something of a mess and he ends up letting the old him all but take control as he tries to have an actual conversation with her without letting everything else – the lies, the secrets, the mission – get in the way.

He used to be able to be so honest with her. It's yet another thing he misses.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” he lets himself admit even though he knows the full context of his sentence will go unnoticed by her. “I had to keep living.”

She draws attention to the necklace again because of course she would still be focused on it. He can't exactly blame her for that so he tells her the truth even as he prays she won't ask him to return it. There are no words to express how relieved he is when she doesn't and maybe that is why he lets himself admit a little more of his true feelings in an effort to fix things between them.

“You- You have to believe that no matter what... what century or universe or world I'm living in that I would never forget you. Never.” The look on her face tells him she is having trouble believing him and that compels him to keep speaking. “It's wrong of me to keep the truth from you.”

_-Yes, tell her-_ , the old him urges.

“Well, the truth never hurts as much as secrets,” she comments quietly, possibly alluding to the last time a secret of his drove a seemingly insurmountable wedge between them.

“Yeah, and I should've known better,” he admits as much. “You've never needed my protection.”

He doesn't really know why he says what he does next. Maybe the old him is to blame, strengthened as it is by his own weakness in the face of her natural ability to strip away his defences and years of training just by being close to him. Maybe it's just him getting lost in the moment because as much as he wants to deny it, he still misses those carefree days when all they had to worry about was simple things like whose turn it was to buy the groceries.

Maybe he just misses seeing her smile without any pain lingering in her eyes or the curves of her lips.

The sight of her scarfing down all those ribs like her life depended on it is still a favourite memory of his and he can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest and spills out of him when she defends herself the exact same way she always did all the other times in the past he brought it up just to tease her.

Her smile is everything.

“It's the first time I've seen you smile since you've been back,” she notes softly.

Laughing. Smiling. He'd almost forgotten he was capable of those things. She is still saving him even if she doesn't know it.

_-Tell her.-_

“I haven't had the chance to say it yet but, uh... it's really good to see you.” _You have no idea how much._

The fragile “yeah” that leaves her lips threatens to break him.

_-Just tell her. Please.-_

He caves. “There's something I have to tell you,” he starts as he carefully considers what he is about to say and sees the small, almost hopeful smile steal across her face-

“Mon-El?”

Imra.

The mission.

_-NO! Don't you dare!-_ the old him roars furiously, already aware of what he intends to do. _-Don't you dare, you bastard! You've hurt her enough as it is!-_

_You of all people should understand_ , he snarls in response as he shoves it back down into the dark recesses of his mind where he doesn't have to hear it pass judgement on him again. This – all of this – has been a mistake. He cannot afford to make any, not when he swore he would do whatever it takes to fulfil his goal.

So he does what he must and says what he must even if there is a possibility that she will end up hating him in the end. It doesn't matter. Not when he knows what is at stake.

He thinks he might have heard her heart break again in that very moment and tells himself it is an acceptable price to pay. It has to be.

_Whatever it takes._

**Author's Note:**

> (enters the Karamel family home)
> 
> Okay, so I have a lot of things to say to all of you.
> 
> Those of you who're relatively calm and have been drowning themselves in theories and speculations instead of falling completely to pieces, you guys are doing great. Continue churning out those theses; I'm pretty sure at least a handful of you guys have probably even figured out the whole season's storyline to some extent even if we're all going to have to wait to get that confirmation. (Feel free to also drown yourself in whatever age-appropriate beverage you prefer at the same time but try not to overdo it, okay?)
> 
> Those of you who have been freaking out and screaming about the ship-ocalypse, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath and calm down. If they wanted to sink our ship, they wouldn't be putting this much effort into writing how much Kara has been missing Mon-El all this time. I'd like to remind you of A Certain Ship I Will Not Name which was supposed to have been the main ship at the beginning of the show; remember how quickly that got sunk at the start of season 2? If that doesn't convince you, consider how Kara's necklace was introduced solely so they could have that heartbreaking scene in the season 2 finale AND how it continues to be relevant. I mean, it was important enough to appear in 3x01's dream sequence and be the point of interest in TWO scenes in 3x07. And if that still doesn't convince you, consider these two words: Melwood's chemistry. Practically every showrunner out there dreams of having chemistry that great between their two leads. The Powers That Be know they struck gold with Melissa and Chris; they're not going to waste something that rare and amazing. So suck in that oxygen and have a little faith.
> 
> Apparently there are also some who've pretty much abandoned ship in light of 3x07 but I don't really know what to say to them except, "I have to wonder how long you've been shipping in general if you've never had writers throw this kind of hurdle at one of your OTPs before." Trust me, there have been worse in the history of shipping. MUCH worse. Besides, we don't know the full story yet because Mon-El is clearly keeping a LOT of secrets. So maybe reconsider getting out just because the ride's gotten bumpy. (That is, if anyone in this category is reading this...)
> 
> Strap yourselves in and keep your chins up, people. This roller coaster ride's only just beginning.


End file.
